


Predetermined Choice

by QueenOfTheNerdlords



Category: The Stanley Parable
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, One Shot, One Word Prompts, Secret Crush, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3588105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfTheNerdlords/pseuds/QueenOfTheNerdlords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Stanley and his Narrator had unconventional ways of loving each other. It was painful, cold, and agonizing. Nevertheless, it was all they had, and neither of them would give it up for anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Predetermined Choice

**wind**

The Narrator did not realise how powerless he was compared to Stanley. Stanley was the one who made the choices, Stanley was the one who governed where they went. Not the Narrator. Of course, the Narrator could change things. He could kill Stanley on will, he could erase this entire world. But when Stanley didn’t choose... Well, what good is a windmill without wind?

**fear**

The clock counted down. The Narrator spoke so coldly. His mind became a mess, and nothing made sense. Why had he done this? He didn't know. Stanley didn’t like this ending.

**butterfly**

In that simple room with vivid colors, he felt happy. And he realized, all he wanted to keep Stanley safe and to feel happy. He wanted this story to have a happy ending. No matter how futile he knew it was, he was determined to get it. For then, and only then, could he ever express his feelings. He begged and pleaded, but he knew Stanley would not listen. Each time Stanley jumped was like a knife through the heart, though he didn’t fully know why. And it kept hurting, and hurting, until Stanley jumped one last time.

**artificial**

Stanley knew that defiance would only hurt him, but since he knew his feelings would never be returned, he went against the Narrator's plan. It was close enough to love.

 **dance**  
It was their own private tango. He would defy the rules that were set, and the Narrator would start things over again. It would begin, the Narrator would lead, then Stanley would obediently follow his steps, and then he would steal the position. And the Narrator would find sadistic ways to get back at him. It always depended on mood and circumstance. It was a painful, agonizing dance, but it was all both of them ever really had.

**frail**

The Narrator looked at Stanley, and all he saw was a weak, timid, thing with no mind of it's own. He could easily break his mind, his body, and even his soul, if he desired to. He was a shell to be controlled, and if he had ever found out about it, he couldn't do anything about it. So gentle and fragile... It made the Narrator laugh. How could someone so docile even exist?

**tears**

This was all just a series of programming. Stanley often wondered if the feelings he had were implanted there by whoever created the game. But then, he often stopped. He couldn't dwell on his existance for too long. It wasn't in the programming. He couldn't talk, couldn't laugh... He couldn't even move his arms for god's sake! Stanley wished he could smile and laugh, and respond to his Narrator through his own words. Stanley wished he could truly be free. But he could not, he could never, it seemed. And his sadness could only stay bottled up inside of him. Right now, more than anything else, Stanley wished he could cry. 

**tawdry**

Stanley was a simple man. He didn't really like showy things, or extravagant places, or even loud noises. And certainly, the Narrator was a loud, dramatic, show-off, but Stanley didn't really mind. It was the cost of loving a man so garish.

**gift**

The Narrator considered his time valuable, so he would not focus his attentions on just anything. He wondered if Stanley knew that.

**shame**

Sometimes the Narrator would remember what he did to Stanley, and he would feel so much guilt for the short time he remembered.

**unkempt**

The Narrator did not like unorganized things. He saw them as a blemish on what could be perfect. He thought they were useless, unnecessary, dreadful, a waste of space. Even with Stanley, all he thought of the man was how unchanged and nicer the world would be without him. But sometimes, he appreciated the unexpectedness of the man. Though he would never say it aloud.

**insensitive**

Was Stanley this ignorant of other people's feelings, or did he do this on purpose?

**laugh**

Stanley loved hearing the Narrator laugh. And for a few moments, he wasn't laughing  _at_  him. 

**alarm**

It was so very stupid to care about a being who didn't even care slightly about you. Stanley knew that if he kept going off of the path, it would only end in disaster. Even though that feeling was clear, Stanley didn't listen.

**disobediant**

Why couldn't Stanley just follow orders once? Just once! The Narrator hated how much he couldn't control, and he wished that Stanley would just go with his plans. It would make them both all the more happy.

**voice**

Every time the Narrator spoke, shivers went up Stanley's spine. Stanley loved the Narrator's voice, and wished that he could hear it laugh, and be happy, and speak kind words to him. However Stanley was not stupid, and he knew that the Narrator would never love him enough to say those sweet words. Still, he would not stop enjoying the rich sound of his voice. He had to listen to it all the time anyways, so why not enjoy it?

**endure**

What lied at the end of this eternal maze? Was it even worth it all? Neither one knew, but they had no choice but to keep going.

**suffering**

It all hurt so much. He wished he could go back to being content with his job, being content pushing buttons. It was selfish, he knew, but when he approached the Mind Control Device, he pushed the  _on_  button.

**freedom**

The blue skies and green grass was fake. This freedom was not real. The game would restart again, and he would be stuck in that bloody office, and the Narrator wouldn't remember a thing. But at hearing the Narrator's delight, he figured he could enjoy the peace while it lasted.

**love**

He had done it. After hours of pushing the buttons in the Narrator's stupid game, he had won. And the prize was much more than Stanley had ever expected. The Narrator had said he loved him.  _He loved him_. That confession was worth more than anything in the world, to Stanley. Whether or not it was romantic, he didn't care. It was more than Stanley had ever hoped for. He cared about him. He loved him. He couldn't care if the game reset because that was all Stanley ever wanted to hear. That was all that Stanley ever needed.


End file.
